


Man Overboard

by theauthorish, WatercolorButterflies



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Bartenders, Beaches, Bickering, Idiots in Love, Lifeguards, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Skateboarding, Surfing, This Is STUPID, jongho is Tired, woosansang are dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23309425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatercolorButterflies/pseuds/WatercolorButterflies
Summary: Well, this was… interesting.'This' being that the words had actually died in Wooyoung’s throat, and he was blessedly quiet for the first time since he had a sore throat the year before. Yeosang looked equally stunned.Not by Jongho, though.By San.Which, well, Jongho should have expected. Wooyoung and Yeosang? Not even close to straight, and San was, objectively speaking, a very good-looking man and usually half-naked because… you know. Lifeguards./////Also known as the one in which San is a lifeguard, Wooyoung is a surfer, Yeosang is a skater, and Jongho...Jongho is Tired.He just wants his hyungs to get their shit together. And get together in general.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Past Seo Changbin/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a million AUs and I should have been working on my escort AU, but lia (my co-planner/beta) said "I need this to live, Ella." and tada. I had to keep my singular beta alive so. Have dumb shenanigans.

“There’s something almost poetic about him, isn’t there?”

Oh no, thought Jongho. Yeosang of all people? Waxing poetic? That didn’t sound right. Then again…

Setting aside the glass he’d been wiping and lifting his head to follow Yeosang’s gaze, he found he was right. Of course it was San.

“Jongho, are you even listening to your hyung?” Yeosang said, pouting slightly at being ignored.

“Why are you bothering me and not Wooyoung?”Jongho complained, picking up the next glass in need of drying.

“Because,” came the prim reply, “this is a PSA, and Wooyoung’s already heard it. So have Mingi and Yunho. And Seonghwa-hyung. Hongjoong-hyung hasn’t yet, but that’s just because he’s not in until later. Now are you gonna ask me what I mean or no?”

Jongho blew out an exasperated breath. “Okay, Yeosang-hyung. What_ ever _ do you mean.”

Yeosang sniffed. “I’m nice, so I’m going to pretend that wasn’t sarcastic as all fuck.”

“_ You’re _ sarcastic as all fuck,” retorted Jongho. “All the time. You can’t pick on me for it or you’d be a hypocrite.”

There was a pause. “Fair. Anyway— _ look _ at him.”

Jongho did, just to humor him. “Okay? I see him all the time. What am I looking for?”

Yeosang sighed dreamily. “The sun. Across his shoulders. It’s so golden, Jongho.”

...okay. So this was… very un-Yeosang-like. Jongho had to admit he was curious. “And?”

“And look at how he moves.”

Jongho raised his eyebrows.

“It’s always so… controlled? Fluid? He looks like a dancer. Even Wooyoung said so, and he’s almost as freaky about dancing as he is surfing.”

“Uh… huh.” Jongho watched with Yeosang as San brushed hair from his face, and then nimbly clambered back up to his lifeguard’s perch. He had to admit, San _ did _ move very gracefully, though he never really bothered to notice it. He didn’t really care, but he wasn’t about to tell Yeosang and get ranted at for his trouble.

“And just… the lines of his body, Jongho.”

Jongho’s face wrinkled. “Gross,” he said.

“It’s not gross! Listen—”

“I don’t want to.”

“Too bad, you gotta,” Yeosang sang, smug because he was right. Jongho couldn’t head into the back now; the evening rush would begin soon, and he had to be out here to greet people. “But seriously. The way they shift? When he moves? And how the shadows play across them…”

“You weren’t kidding about poetic, were you?” Jongho muttered, eyeing Yeosang almost warily. Was he sick? Was he going to reveal to them all later that he was some kind of terminally ill, and he and Wooyoung had a bucket list to fulfill and—

Yeosang shook his head, waving cheerily at Wooyoung in the distance. His eyes found San once more, and he gave another wistful sigh. “I really, really want—”

“—to date him, yes we—”

“—him to step on me. Or choke me. One-handed. He totally could.”

Jongho froze. “Yeosang-hyung?”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to throw up in all your drinks if you _ ever _ say anything like that to me again. My poor, virgin ears???”

The look Yeosang fixed him with was nothing short of incredulous. “Your _ what _ now? You might be an actual baby, but you’re not innocent, you little fuck.”

“_ Virgin _ ears. Poor, too-pure-for-this, virgin ears,” Jongho insisted, reaching underneath the bar for an apple. He turned it in his hands for a bit, and then split it, offering Yeosang one half and taking a bite of the other.

Yeosang blinked at him. “That’s so fake I don’t even know where to start.”

And because the universe _ loved _ him, Wooyoung arrived just in time to hear that last exchange. He made a face. “Jongho,” he said, voice dripping in so much disgust Jongho was pretty sure he could look over the bar and find a puddle. “What the _ fuck _ have you been doing to your ears?”

Jongho groaned.

  
  


/////

Jongho’s greatest plight began like this:

He was just minding his business, manning the bar as usual. It was a slow time of the day, and he was having a somewhat decent chat with San while he was on his break. It was something about…

Actually, who knew, at this point. It was two months ago.

But anyway, so they were sitting at the bar, talking amicably, when Jongho hears a familiar hyena-yelp.

Oh, Jongho thought, oh no.

“—is plenty useful!” That was Wooyoung. As expected.

Jongho could already feel the headache building in his temples.

“No? You’re just splashing around like you’re three and in a bathtub like— forty percent of the time.” And that was Yeosang. At least he was funny. And not nearly as likely to burst someone’s eardrums just by virtue of being in a ten-mile radius.

“I do _ not _!”

“Yes you do, paddling around and—”

Yeah… this needed to stop. Jongho cleared his throat. “Hyungs?”

“Oh Jongho, h— oh.”

Well, this was… interesting.

'This' being that the words had actually died in Wooyoung’s throat, and he was blessedly quiet for the first time since he had a sore throat the year before. Yeosang looked equally stunned.

Not by Jongho, though.

By _ San _.

Which, well, Jongho should have expected. Wooyoung and Yeosang? Not even close to straight, and San was, objectively speaking, a very good-looking man and usually half-naked because… you know. Lifeguards.

Then again, they were here at least once a week, if not more, so why they weren’t yet immune to Baywatch syndrome, Jongho genuinely didn’t know.

“Hi,” Wooyoung finished, an agonizingly awkward three seconds later than he should have. His voice was decidedly fainter than usual.

Yeosang, on the other hand, only gave him a nod of acknowledgement, ducking his head and abandoning Wooyoung to sit at the other end of the bar. He was blushing.

Wow, they were serious gay disasters. Who knew?

Wooyoung finally recovered, sauntering up to the bar like nothing had happened.

Jongho had to really wrestle with himself not to facepalm, but at least San just looked vaguely amused.

“Jongho,” Wooyoung said, slapping his hands down onto the bar. Jongho scowled at him.

“Wooyoung-hyung, I _ just _ cleaned that,” Jongho grumbled.

Wooyoung jerked upright. “Oh shit. Sorry. Give me the rag.”

“No, it’s—”

Of course it didn’t matter. Wooyoung leaned over and snatched it from Jongho’s pocket himself.

Jongho shook his head, letting out a breath that was equal parts fondness and exasperation, but let Wooyoung at it. “So what did you need this time?”

Wooyoung lifted his head to pout up at him, handing back the rag. “What makes you think we need something?”

“You and Yeosang-hyung only come to the bar when you’re hungry or when you need an argument settled. It’s not dinner time yet. Process of elimination.”

San snorted, then tried to cover it up with a cough.

Right. He was still here. Better not be any ruder than he already had been. “This is San, by the way. You might already have figured it out, but he’s a lifeguard here.” Or… maybe not. Yeosang held their shared braincell more often than not.

“Nice to meet you…?”

Wooyoung gave him an easy, if somewhat cocky smile. “Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung. That guy over there—” he jerked a thumb in Yeosang’s direction. “Is Kang Yeosang. He’s my best friend.”

San grinned. “Nice to meet you, Jung Wooyoung-ssi. And, well, I haven’t quite met him but—”

“Oh, right.” Wooyoung whirled around. “YEOSANG!”

“What?” Yeosang didn’t even look up from his phone. “Stop yelling!”

“Come here then!”

“What for?”

“Just do it!”

San watched this all with a raised brow. “Are they—” he began, voice low so the other two wouldn’t hear.

“Always like this? Yes. Yes they are. They’ve been friends forever, so they act like an old married couple,” Jongho informed him. They swore up and down they were just friends, but it was really only a matter of time, in Jongho’s opinion, until something more grew between them. “They’ve only got one big, never-ending argument though.”

“And that would be?”

“You’ll see.”

Yeosang heaved a harried sigh, but he eventually did stand from his seat to join them. “What, Wooyoung,” he said, doing his best, Jongho could tell, not to stare at San. 

“This is San,” Wooyoung said, thwarting Yeosang’s efforts, just like that.

Forced to face him now, Yeosang turned to San. Pink crawled up his cheeks, and it was, frankly, very cute. “Hi,” he murmured, in that quiet way he had when he wasn’t yet comfortable. “Kang Yeosang. Nice to meet you.” He dipped his head in a small bow.

“Same to you, Kang Yeosang-ssi,” San replied, smile softening at the edges. “You looked busy over there. I hope we didn’t interrupt.”

Yeosang shook his head.

“He’s not busy,” Wooyoung told San, rolling his eyes. “He finishes all his work way before we come here or go to the skatepark because we always get distracted.”

Yeosang snorted. “‘Distracted’, he says,” he muttered. “_ I _ don’t get distracted. I have great time management. You just ignore my careful scheduling and goad me into things, or you take away what I’m working on.”

“That’s not—”

Jongho had to nip that thought in the bud. “It is too, true, Wooyoung-hyung. I’ve _ seen _ you do it. Sometimes I get pissed on his behalf.” He turned to San. “Wooyoung-hyung is a nice guy, and lots of fun, but he doesn’t always see what lines he’s crossing. Just a warning.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung protested. Then he grumbled, “Well, guess I can’t argue with that.”

“Guess?” Jongho and Yeosang said, in sync. They met gazes, and high-fived. He couldn’t argue period, and they both knew it. So did Wooyong himself. 

Wooyoung threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine.”

“So,” said San, polishing off the drink Jongho had made him earlier. “Here or the skatepark? That’s pretty specific.”

Jongho pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve done it now,” he mumbled.

“What?”

There was no chance to answer. Wooyoung had perked up, perching himself in the seat next to San and leaning forward slightly, as if that would somehow make San more willing to listen.

God, here came the nonsense. San was a very tolerant person, and a lot of fun, but… would this put him off? Jongho hoped not, because Yeosang and Wooyoung were great aside from this singular type of recurring dumbassery, and he rather thought they’d all get along. Especially San and Wooyoung. 

“Okay, so,” said Wooyoung. “I surf, right? Like. A lot. Sometimes I even compete. And Yeosang—” he nodded at the man in question, who for lack of better response (or so Jongho assumed) simply threw up a peace sign. “Yeosang skates. He competes a lot, actually. Wins a bunch too.”

“I don’t win that often, shut up,” Yeosang cut in, embarrassed. 

“That’s just as much bullshit as Wooyoung-hyung saying he doesn’t stop you from working,” Jongho pointed out. “You win like seventy-five percent of the time.”

Yeosang bit his lip and glanced away, but at least he didn’t try to deny it.

“Hey, that’s pretty impressive!” San cheered, clapping enthusiastically enough that Yeosang only averted his eyes more, covering his shy smile with a hand.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” he said softly.

“It _ is _ impressive,” Wooyoung agreed, nodding heavily. There was something in his eyes that was almost like approval, which Jongho figured was fair. Yeosang didn’t really need protecting— he had a hell of a wit, and a tongue sharper than any sword to match, not to mention, he was fitter than he typically let on— but there was something almost precious about him that made it first instinct for most people who knew him. Jongho definitely felt it, and Wooyoung wasn’t shy about showing that he did too. “But that’s also not the point. So, we both use some kind of board, right?”

He paused, probably for dramatic effect, but Jongho had just about had it. He rolled his eyes. “Basically, Sannie-hyung, they argue about which kind of boarding is better. So far, there’s no clear winner— ahem, becauseit’sastupidfight—” Jongho didn’t so much as flinch at Wooyoung’s swat to his arm. Poor soul. He really thought that would work? “—and also for some reason, they keep taking each other to try the other kind of boarding out, like that’ll magically convert them.” He hummed, thinking. “Does it even still count as ‘trying’ when you’ve been doing this for like. A year and a half now?”

Wooyoung shrugged.

“At this point,” Yeosang said, “I’m pretty sure Wooyoung’s just refusing to accept it out of spite. That I’m right.”

“You aren’t! Surfing is better!”

“Like I was _ telling _ you, just think about it _ practically _,” said Yeosang, like he was talking to a particularly disobedient child. 

Not that… that was entirely inaccurate or anything, when talking about Wooyoung.

“A skateboard,” he continued, “Can take you from point A to point B. You can use it outside of the skatepark to go to malls. To go home. To cross campus. If it’s mostly solid and not overly riddled with holes or lumps, you can use a skateboard on it. What’s a surfboard gonna do for you? Take you into… the middle of the ocean?”

“Okay, fine, but you can like. Save lives on a surfboard,” Wooyoung said, faltering, but still trying to posture because that was just… him.

He wasn’t as bad as Mingi, at least.

“That’s not your job, that’s the lifeguard’s job. Ask San. And really, you surf so far out from where other people are, how likely is it that you’ll get to them before the lifeguards do? Huh?” Yeosang clicked his tongue. “You’re just an idiot with a hero complex and big-ass board. Oh, and too much love for the word ‘dude’.”

“Now you’re just bringing up stereotypes,” Wooyoung whined. “I don’t even use it that often!”

Yeosang rolled his shoulders, strangely elegant for a casual shrug.

“Aren’t we supposed to, like, not do that whole…” Wooyoung flapped a hand around uselessly. Jongho had no idea what it was meant to do, really. “Generalization thing? Isn’t that like. The rule about being gay. Because other people do it to us?”

“No???” Yeosang laughed. “We’re gay and we _ embrace _ stereotypes. Aggressively.”

San giggled.

Jongho was fairly certain he’d never heard San giggle before. It was adorable.

And he was also fairly certain Wooyoung and Yeosang melted a little at the sound.

“He’s right,” San chirped. “We gays love stereotypes so much we dial it up to eleven out of spite for the hets.”

Not something Jongho didn’t know, but Yeosang and Wooyoung hesitated just a bit, processing.

They had a shot.

Jongho wasn’t sure if this was about to be the best show he’d ever witness, or the most painful mess of his life.

The pause didn’t last too long, thankfully. Jongho wasn’t even sure San noticed; Jongho only did because he knew both Wooyoung and Yeosang so well.

“Unless it’s the actually asshole-ish type of generalization, of course,” Yeosang allowed.

Jongho flashed a thumbs up, and then figured he wasn’t really needed to mediate anymore. They were fine, after all. So he went about getting his stuff together for the impending dinner rush.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” San said, emphatically.

“Of course,” Wooyoung sniffed. Jongho glanced at them just in time to catch Wooyoung straighten in his seat (_ ha _, that was funny, given the conversation topic). “Okay, but consider: the gays.”

“What?” Yeosang asked, snickering. “What about them? What about _ us _?”

“Surfing means like. Shirtless men. Or at least, men in really tight rashguards.” Wooyoung looked triumphant. San looked ready to collapse with amusement. Yeosang looked like he was contemplating… no, looked like he agreed.

Idiots. All of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you read All That Glitters, I Will be updating that eventually, but trust me when i say that dumb shenanigans are so so so much easier to write than smut. anyway enjoy!

And now, here they were. After thoroughly traumatizing Jongho, Wooyoung and Yeosang had gone back to the water, presumably to splash around while it was still somewhat warm out, but Jongho was pretty sure it was just an excuse to ogle San.

“It sounds like they’ve been obvious since the beginning,” Yunho said, smiling so wide his eyes were crinkling at the corners. 

Jongho really… wanted to pinch his cheeks. It was only a natural response, though. Yunho was cute to  _ everybody _ .

Especially to Mingi, who was, coincidentally, Yunho’s boyfriend. He was also currently leaning over to give Yunho the single noisiest kiss Jongho had ever witnessed. He was only giving it a pass because these two together were too adorable for him to be mad at. Yunho giggled.

“Oh, they were. I remember San wasn’t subtle at all,” Mingi said, laughing. “Once, Hwanwoong-ie went to take over San’s shift, and San didn’t hear him calling for like two minutes. He was too busy staring at Yeosang and Wooyoung.” He snorted. “Woongie ended up having to yank his leg, and he almost fell out of his chair.”

“How do you know it was Yeosang and Wooyoung he was staring at?” asked Yunho, giving Mingi a kiss in return. 

“I was there, that’s why,” cackled Mingi. “His face, man. He was so busy staring but he somehow missed that Yeosang and Wooyoung kept glancing back at him too.”

Jongho groaned into his hands. “Why are they all so  _ stupid _ ?”

Mingi shrugged. “Can I get a drink?”

“It’s like three in the afternoon,” said Jongho.

“Soda then.”

Jongho tugged open the fridge and pulled out a can of Sprite. He thought about shaking it just to be mean, but… Yunho would pout at him, and Mingi would too, and…

Anyway, the bottom line was he didn’t.

He handed Mingi his drink. “We have to—”

“Jongho-yah.”

Jongho turned to find Seonghwa, wringing his hands almost nervously. Oh no. “What’s wrong?” he said, immediately concerned. Seonghwa was rarely  _ nervous _ . Overprepared and overly thoughtful, yes, but never nervous. “Did something happen?”

Seonghwa bit his lip. “Well, no. Not really, but…”

“But?” So no one was probably hurt, but maybe something had stopped working or gotten lost or—

“Hongjoong texted to say he’d be late but he never replied when I asked  _ why _ ,” said Seonghwa, all in a rush.

“I…” He could not have possibly heard that right. He’d been bracing himself to either fight someone or put something back together and it turns out his hyung was just being a useless fucking bisexual. “I  _ hate _ you,” he said, with feeling, as Yunho and Mingi burst into laughter behind him.

“What? Why?” Seonghwa demanded, pouting like that would somehow earn him sympathy points.

It did not. Seonghwa was cute, admittedly, but Jongho had long since become immune.

“You had me  _ genuinely _ worried—”

“ _ I’m _ genuinely worried! About Hongjoong! Why would he be late? He’s never late!”

“Nope. Not dealing with this. Go be a manager or something hyung, I have drinks to make,” Jongho huffed. 

“What drinks? There’s no customers! And I’m already a manager!” He was whining now.  _ Whining _ . Was he really older than Jongho?

Yunho stopped giggling long enough to pipe in, “He pre-mixes drinks all the time, hyung. Helps him keep up with the rush.”

“Also,” added Mingi, “He likes doing the tricks you taught him and he can’t do them too much when it’s busy.”

Jongho paused, mouth halfway open to say exactly what Yunho had said. Mingi’s bit was less necessary, but not any less true. He was kind of surprised they’d noticed. More often than not, the two always seemed so absorbed in each other.

Not that Jongho begrudged them that or anything. He was happy they were happy.

Even if it was a little gross.

Seonghwa blinked at them. “Huh. Okay. Fine, but you’re gonna get it later.” He ruffled Jongho’s hair (much to his annoyance) and then disappeared to who-knows-where. ‘It’ probably meant an hour-long gush about Seonghwa’s frankly ridiculously huge crush on Hongjoong, which Jongho wasn’t looking forward to, but at least later probably meant after work.

“Why does everyone come to you with their gay issues, Jongho-yah?” Yunho asked, eyes sparkling happily. Something about it felt distinctly puppyish.

It was cute. Kind of.

“I don’t know. Make it stop,” Jongho muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Mingi said, “I think it’s just because of the bartender effect.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow. “The what.”

“The bartender effect!” Mingi answered. “You know, the thing where people just. Spill their guts to the bartender like they’re a therapist?”

Yunho made a face like he’d had some kind of epiphany. “Oh… Isn’t that for strangers and not friends though?”

Mingi shrugged. “It was just a suggestion.” He turned his gaze out to the beach, probably bored, when he said, “Oh. Wooyoung and San and Yeosang are on their way back.”

“All together?” Yunho asked, though why he bothered, Jongho didn’t know. They’d both already twisted to look, just as Mingi had. They were indeed walking in a small knot, San with his arms thrown over both Wooyoung and Yeosang’s shoulders.

Jongho sighed. “How are they all still oblivious, again?” he inquired of the world in general, pulling out some of the bottles and tools he’d need.

Yunho’s shoulders shook with his amusement. “It’s gotta be some sort of miracle.” He shook his head. “Do you think Wooyoung’s started flirting awfully yet?”

Mingi snorted. “If he did, wouldn't San have gotten a clue already?” Mingi polished off his drink and rolled the empty can over the bar with one hand, careful not to smush it under the weight of his palm. “Speaking of flirting, Jongho you have to hear what dumbass line Yunho tried to pull on me this morning.”

This ought to be good. “What did he say this time?”

“Tell him,” Mingi said, chuckling as he nudged Yunho with an elbow.

Yunho somehow brightened up even more. “Can I, Jongho?”

“Since when have you needed my permission, hyung?” Jongho replied, fighting back a smile as best he could, though he was pretty sure both Yunho and Mingi knew him well enough by now to recognize that he wanted to.

Yunho leaned forward, grin wide and almost too sunny to look at, and dropped his voice low as he said, in mock seriousness, “I'm learning about important dates in history. Wanna be one of them, Jongho-yah?”

Jongho blinked. Then he sputtered out a laugh, taking Mingi’s trash and turning to toss it in the trash can to hide it if he was blushing. He probably wasn’t. Most likely. He knew how to control himself, and anyway, Mingi and Yunho were literally boyfriends. They were just playing.

“That was awful,” he told Yunho.

“You’re smiling! It can’t be that bad! Besides, your puns are worse.”

“It’s—” not the line, he wanted to say, though Jongho couldn’t have said what else it could have been.

“What’s so funny?” San asked, sliding into a seat, Wooyoung and Yeosang on his heels. “I wanna be in on the joke.”

Jongho would have thought Yunho would take the opportunity to share the line, to laugh about it with the rest of their friends, but all he did was wink, miming zipping his lips. “It’s a secret, Sannie. Only for Mingi and Jongho.”

“I get why Mingi, since he’s your boyfriend,” said Yeosang. “But why does Jongho get special privileges too?”

Yeah, Yunho. Inquiring minds wanted to know: why was Jongho included, but not the others?

“It’s really not much of a privilege,” Mingi muttered, chuckling. “He has bad pick up lines. The worst.”

Yunho pushed at Mingi’s shoulders. “So do you!” Turning to Yeosang, he said seriously, “Obviously because Jongho is special too.”

“And we aren’t?” Wooyoung scoffed. “Sounds fake.”

“You are!” Yunho assured him. He paused. “Just not as much as Jongho and Mingi.”

Jongho had no idea what any of this meant, and he wasn’t sure Yunho did either. He didn’t want to ask Mingi— there was something unsettling about the sudden sharpness of his gaze, calculating and observant, not unlike the way he looked when he noticed someone harassing one of the other bar patrons, although it was certainly less cold.

In fact, it was really rather warm, the look in his eyes.

Jongho didn’t linger on it. The sun was starting to sink, and with the darkness, came business; the swimmers, the surfers, the friends just out to chill— they’d be trickling in soon for food and drinks and for some, to dance the rest of the night away. 

“The rush is starting, you guys. I don’t mind you taking up the bar, but I think hyung would like it better if you moved off to the corner table.”

“Oh, right.” Mingi was the first to vanish, waving cheerfully and then hopping off his stool, dragging his boyfriend behind him.

As he went, Yunho called, “See you later, Jongho!”

San paused partway through standing. “Can I get the same drink you made last time? The blue one?”

“Ooh, me too!” Wooyoung added.

“Yes, yes,” Jongho said, “and the usual wings, right Yeosang-hyung?”

“Please.”

Jongho nodded. He figured. “All right. Go on then, I’ll bring it out soon.”

“Yay. Thanks Jongho.” Yeosang smiled at him, and then went to catch up with San and Wooyoung, who were huddled in close, laughing about something. As soon as Yeosang neared them, San was twisting to include him, grin and gestures grandly exaggerated, likely in a bid to earn Yeosang’s giggle…

Jongho shook his head, smiling.

  
/////  
  
  


“San-hyung,” greeted Jongho, as the lifeguard plopped into a seat in front of him. He looked… down. Literally. Jongho had never seen him like this, almost drooping into the woodgrain of the bar. “What’s wrong?”

“Wooyoung and Yeosang invited me to the skatepark today,” San said, sounding way too disappointed for someone who’d been invited somewhere by their crushes— even if San didn’t seem quite aware that he was, indeed, crushing on both Wooyoung and Yeosang, everyone else could see it from miles away. Jongho quirked up an eyebrow. “But,” San continued, “I couldn’t go because of my shift. They mentioned yesterday they might still be there when I finished, but they forgot to give me the address and none of them are answering my texts, so…”

Of course they did. Jongho barely held back a sigh, finding a clean glass and filling it with water for San, who thanked him with a nod. “I mean, they probably are. I’ve gone with them before. They like to hang out afterwards and chat with their friends there. And Yeosang-hyung likes to try new things sometimes, but he waits until the park is empty in case he fucks up. They stay later if there’s something he wants to try.”

San paused to drain his drink. “Oh.” 

Jongho waited for realization to hit. Three, two—

“Wait, you know where it is?”

There we go. Not so hopeless after all. “Well, yeah. I can take you after my shift, if you want,” Jongho offered, pouring some more water into San’s glass. “Seonghwa finally found another bartender to replace BK, so I don’t have to keep pulling extra long shifts. I just have ten more minutes on the clock.”

San beamed. “You would? Really?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” Jongho said, rolling his eyes, though he couldn’t help smiling at how cute San was, nearly bouncing from excitement like a child. “It’s a bit of a long walk, though.”

San waved it off. “That’s fine. I can walk.”

“I sure fucking hope so,” muttered Jongho, heading into the back before San could do much more than groan at the bad joke. He just had to go get the orders from Leedo…

He came back out a moment later to find San eyeing him, almost unsurely. Like there was something he wanted to say, but wasn’t quite sure if he should.

Jongho brought the dishes— some grilled shellfish plates and some gooey cheese-fries, if anyone was wondering— to the right tables, made a bit of smalltalk and asked if they needed anything else, and then returned to the bar. San still had the same conflicted expression on his face.

Should Jongho try to get it out of him…? No, probably not. San wasn’t that type of person. He needed to do it in his own time, unless he was getting too deep in his own head; it didn’t look like that was happening. “What’s up, hyung?” he asked, carefully casual. An invitation to share, if he wanted. That was pretty good, right?

San seemed to mull over something, rolling his lip between his teeth in thought (idly, Jongho wondered if Wooyoung had ever seen him do that— he’d probably lose his shit; he definitely knew Yeosang had already seen it, and he still shuddered thinking about what it had prompted Yeosang to say). “It’s nothing, Jongho-yah.”

That was decidedly false, but what could Jongho do? Hopefully it wasn’t something that was seriously bothering him.

“If you say so, but I’m right here if you need me.” Jongho went about cleaning up the bar, setting things in order for the new guy since there weren’t any orders in need of filling. “Want any drink before we go?” he offered.

“More water, please?”

“Sure.” San handed Jongho his glass, and he topped it up before handing it back.

San sipped at it, fishing out his phone from the pocket of his shorts. He woke the screen up with the tap of a button, frowned at it, and then tucked it away again.

“They don’t really check their phones, hyung,” Jongho said softly, startling him. He smiled slightly. “They get absorbed while they’re there, and especially if they’re skating, they leave their phones off to the side so they don’t fall out of their pockets and break.”

Face coloring, San asked, “How did you know?”

Jongho chuckled. “You really enjoy their company, hyung, even more than mine.” He faked a pout for a second, drawing a small snicker from San. “I’m not surprised at how much you look for them, really. They’re easy to get attached to, even if they’re chaotic as all hell.” He paused, nodding at Minho as he arrived for his shift, ducking into the back to clock in.

San laughed breathlessly. “You make me sound like a schoolgirl with a crush,” he complained, though he was clearly still joking.

Ha, funny. He didn’t know yet, just how accurate that was. While Jongho admitted there was the possibility that he was reading this all wrong, that San didn’t really like them that way at all… there was definitely something different about the way he saw Wooyoung and Yeosang.

“You kind of act like one, hyung,” Jongho retorted, keeping his voice light. He’d get there when he got there. Hopefully.

San started to protest, paused, and shut his mouth instead, considering. “Okay, actually, fine. A  _ little _ ,” he stressed, letting Jongho take his glass to wash it.

Eh, good enough. At least he wasn’t fervently denying it or anything.

“Anyway,” Jongho said, grabbing his jacket from his little cubby underneath the bar, “Ready to go?”

San bobbed his head in agreement, standing and rolling his shoulders out with a small sigh. “Yep!” 

Tossing a quick farewell to Minho over his shoulder, Jongho led the way out.

  
/////  
  


The streets were quiet, this time of night. Not that it was late, but it was that weird period of night where everyone was either already home, or wouldn’t be on their way there for at least an hour or two.

It was cold, and both boys had their jackets zipped up against the wind. The walk helped them feel warmer too— Jongho hadn’t been lying about it being a decent walk, about five blocks, and a great deal of it uphill, but San didn’t seem bothered. 

Even Yeosang, who made this trek fairly often, complained at least a few times. Once, he’d even tried to puppy-eye Jongho into giving him a piggyback ride. It had almost worked, too, until a specific series of events, but that was another story.

The point  _ was _ that San had a little more of Jongho’s respect for that.

They traded stories and jokes back and forth, San talking of the wildest things he’d seen on the beach, and Jongho offering up tales from the bar: like the time Seonghwa convinced Hongjoong to come early to swim in the ocean, and then proceeded to nearly faint at the sight of him shirtless, like some convent girl. Or maybe one of those drooling fangirls that spent like ninety percent of their days being thirsty on twitter. That had been hilarious. (It had also inspired Yunho’s conspiracy that Seonghwa had some sort of secret Hongjoong stan twitter? Jongho had no idea.)

And then, as they paused at the crest of yet another hill to catch their breath:

“How long have you known them?”

“Yeosang and Wooyoung?” Jongho clarified. He got a nod. 

Hm. How long  _ had _ it been? They met in Jongho’s freshman year, when one of the professors had recommended Yeosang as a tutor for statistics. Yeosang was good at his job, and aside from that, he’d been cool and funny, if a little shy. When Jongho no longer needed tutoring, he stayed in touch. Of course, where Yeosang was, Wooyoung would eventually appear, because he was a clingy (albeit very warmly welcomed) gremlin that way, and Jongho had soon grown to like him too. They’d actually helped him get the job at the bar. “About a year and a half ago? Give or take,” he said, finally.

“Ah.”

“Why? Was there something you wanted to know?”

San hesitated— well, maybe hesitated wasn’t the right word. Sure, he didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t look unsure or unwilling. It was more like… like he was parsing through it in his head, trying to figure out how to say it. 

They were almost to the park, Jongho noted, starting to walk again, but at a much slower pace. San followed his lead.

“Not exactly? If I want to learn about them, I’d ask them, you know? Unless it was for something like a surprise or something.”

Jongho nodded to show he was listening.

“I just— are they always like that? So… magnetic?”

“Magnetic?” echoed Jongho, startled. That was… definitely a  _ word _ . 

San groaned, scrubbing at his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed. “I just— I don’t think I’ve ever befriended anybody so fast,” he admitted, slowing to a stop. “Usually, it takes me a long time to really open up around people. And I haven’t with them, but they make me  _ want _ to, and that’s just… I don’t get it.”

“Ah.” What was he supposed to say to that? “They’ve always been very easy to be around,” he agreed, starting to move again. “I wouldn’t be worried, hyung. You don’t need to tell them anything until you’re ready, and they won’t judge you if you do. Yeosang only judges Wooyoung, and only about the unimportant things.”

San huffed out a small laugh. “Right.” The tension seemed to be gone from his shoulders, at least. 

Three minutes later, they arrived. The gate to the skatepark was noisy as shit, the whine of its hinges cutting through the calm night as Jongho yanked it open; San was unused to it, had never even been here before, so it was understandable that he’d jumped.

Didn’t stop Jongho from finding it funny though, especially since he’d even squeaked.

San glared, stepping through as Jongho tugged the gate shut behind them. “You knew that would happen,” he accused. “You could have  _ warned _ me.”

“Did I? Must have slipped my mind.” 

“Uh huh. Sure. I believe you,” said San. He didn’t— believe Jongho, that is. As he shouldn’t. It had absolutely been on purpose, not that Jongho would admit it.

The sound of the gate didn’t shock anybody who frequented here, but it did get their attention. Aside from Yeosang and Wooyoung, there were only two others: Seoho— who Jongho knew to be a few years older, and enough of an adrenaline junkie that it made Jongho nervous, sometimes— and Changbin— an old friend of Wooyoung’s, and Jongho’s gym buddy once a week. The four of them were gathered on one of the benches on the sidelines, boards leant up against the back of it. (Not a single one of them was properly seated, Jongho noted; gays, down to the very core.) Seoho was the first one to react properly, tossing them a cheerful, two-fingered salute from where he’d perched himself on the bench’s backrest.

Then: “San!” called Wooyoung, waving wildly from his spot on the floor.

Changbin, whose lap Wooyoung had repurposed as a pillow, had to grab at his arms to keep from getting smacked in the face. “Wooyoung, I swear to god,” he muttered, giving Jongho a look that most definitely meant,  _ I can’t believe I put up with this shit _ , and a nod of greeting.

Yeosang didn’t yell, or even say anything, opting instead to wiggle his fingers in a sweet wave, but his smile at San was soft and gooey, and spoke volumes about how happy he was. Even from here, Jongho could see the shine of sweat on him. He must have just finished up.

“Hey,” San said.

“Hi to you guys too,” Jongho added, raising an eyebrow at Wooyoung in particular.

Wooyoung laughed sheepishly. “Hey Jongho. Didn’t know you were coming.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “San didn’t know how to get here.”

“...oh.”

Yeosang’s eyes were wide. “Oh shit, we—”

“Forgot to tell him? Didn’t check your phones?” suggested Jongho, though he kept his tone light so they’d know he wasn’t actually upset. “I know you get hella excited about skating, Yeosang-hyung, but come on.”

Yeosang raised a hand to his neck, rubbing at it shyly. “Sorry, San.”

“It’s fine,” San chirped, already moving to join them, crouching down by Yeosang’s feet. “Choi San, by the way,” he said, turning his grin to the ones he didn’t know. 

Seoho’s smile was just as bright as San’s. “Nice to meet you! I’m Lee Seoho! I skate here with Yeosangie a lot and—”

“He’s pretty good, for a grandpa,” Yeosang cut in, teasing.

“I— I’m not that old! I’m only three years your senior!”

“ _ Senior _ ,” emphasized Wooyoung.

“Jongho! Help me!” Seoho complained. Or, well— Jongho thought that was what he was doing? He was still smiling really, really wide, as he was prone to do, so who knew.

Jongho sniggered. “Hyung, I’m the maknae, shouldn’t  _ I _ be asking  _ you _ for help?”

Seoho pouted (his eyes were still crinkled and sparkling, though). “But I’m the one being bullied!”

“Sucks.” Jongho claimed the space beside Changbin, pulling one knee up so his foot was flat against the seat, the other knee curled beneath him. “Also, Changbin-hyung, is Chan-hyung coming next week? And Jisung?”

“Chan-hyung, yeah,” Changbin said, nodding. “Jisung—” He set his jaw. “Will too. Like it or not.”

“Aw, Binnie-yah,” said Wooyoung, reaching up to pinch at Changbin’s cheek and tug at it like those annoying aunties, the ones that wore perfume you could smell from hella far away. Like a skunk’s stench or something. Maybe it was meant to scare predators off, though Jongho had no idea what kind of predator would want aunties like  _ that _ for. They were a pain. Literally— they never pinched lightly, in Jongho’s experience. “Wittle Binnie’s so strong and so determined! How  _ cuteee _ !”

Changbin caught Wooyoung's hands and tugged them away from his face. He batted his eyes. “I’m cute?” he cooed, pitching his voice an octave higher. He poked at his own cheek with one finger. “Cute enough for you to treat me to ice cream? Hm?”

Wooyoung fake-retched. “Disgusting, never mind.”

Jongho rolled his eyes. Changbin and Wooyoung were literally always like this. Some weird cross of always getting on each other’s nerves and flirting like they were still a couple. He glanced at San, but thankfully, he had been pulled into conversation with Yeosang and Seoho instead, and hadn’t seemed to notice Wooyoung and Changbin at all.

Good. Jongho hadn’t yet seen jealous San, and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible.

Jongho left Wooyoung and Changbin to their own wacko devices and twisted slightly, tuning into the other conversation. Yeosang had shifted positions, leaning more on Seoho’s shoulder than the bench at this point— a testament to how strong Seoho really was, because he seemed entirely unbothered. He was gesturing, smiling wide and uninhibited as he talked about the upcoming competition.

Beneath him, San took it all in, eyes dewy with wonder at seeing Yeosang so much more animated than he ever was regularly. His smile was wide enough for his dimples to show through.

Yeosang and Wooyoung both deserved someone who’d look at them like that just for their passions— aside from each other, of course.

Jongho did have to wonder if any of the idiot trio would get their shit together, though. He damn well hoped so. Preferably before he was as old as Seoho. 

He somewhat doubted it, but he could dream, couldn’t he?

And you know, maybe San hadn’t been wrong, when he’d called Wooyoung and Yeosang magnetic. Looking at it now, how easily the two had gathered such good friends, had Jongho sincerely wanting the absolute best for them and trusting them wholeheartedly with anything that mattered, as if they’d been friends so much longer than they really had… that wasn’t a quality everyone had.

Hell, Jongho knew for a fact he’d never met anyone else who had stayed on such good terms with as many of their exes as these two had. (Not even put together; individually.)

It was a mystery, and Jongho had learned to just accept it. San was, well, he was getting there, at least, but maybe… maybe Jongho needed to give him more space. More time.

He was clearly interested, and he was obviously enjoying being friends with the two, but it wouldn’t do for him to be pushed into anything he wasn’t ready for. And if he was still trying to get comfortable with their rapidly growing closeness...

Yeah, okay. Jongho could give him a little more time.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me on twitter @theauthorish


End file.
